Hanar Poetry
by fourthage
Summary: Shepard and Garrus find that hanar poetry reading.


"Garrus."

"Just a second," he took his credit chit back from the shopkeeper and sent his authorization for the scope to be delivered to the Normandy.

"_Garrus._"

The sheer urgency in Shepard's voice made him look over at her. She was practically bouncing on her feet, a huge grin on her face. "You'll never guess what I found," she said.

Garrus pretended to think about it, "Alive or shot dead already?"

"Ha ha," she took him by the arm and started walking. He let himself be pulled along, amused.

"Well?" he asked.

"Wait and see. Payback for our last date."

That did raise a bit of alarm. Shepard liked to go for one-upmanship, and he wouldn't put it past her to decide her turn for planning a date meant graduating from mere trespassing to felony breaking and entering. But she stopped when she reached the holo-projection of the Citadel's VI.

"Avina, can you repeat the last thing you told me?"

"Yes, Commander Shepard. The hanar embassy is sponsoring a poetry reading at 1600 hours today."

Garrus's jaw fell slightly open, "No."

"Oh, yes," Shepard said.

Minutes later they stood in the embassies, the light on the hanar ambassador's skin gently flickering as she greeted them. Shepard was suspiciously polite to her, and claimed two chairs in the back of the room.

"Just in case," she said, but didn't elaborate, leaving Garrus to wonder if she was expecting trouble or just wasn't sure she'd be able to sit through the whole thing. He shifted in his seat and put an arm along the back of her chair so he could run his fingers through the ends of her hair without being noticed. If this was supposed to be a date, he was going to get something out of it.

The reading was well-attended, mostly by other hanar and asari, though there were a couple of drell there as well. He and Shepard were the only members of their own species and attracted a few curious looks. When the room was almost full, the hanar ambassador came back in and introduced the first reader. Shepard leaned forward slightly in anticipation.

The introduced hanar took the stage and stood there for a moment, swaying gently back and forth, before letting loose a quick series of flashes, immediately echoed by the other hanar in the room. The asari and drell murmured in appreciation. Shepard blinked, and Garrus tried not to laugh at the expression on her face. He leaned over so his mouth was by her ear.

"You didn't think I was serious about what hanar poetry was like, did you?" he said as low as possible. She turned her head and leveled a glare at him. He smirked and ran one blunted claw along the back of her neck. She didn't react visibly, but his visor readings informed him that her temperature and heart rate both increased slightly.

"You're lucky I like you, Vakarian," she whispered back. She turned her attention back to the stage for a moment, watching the play of light. Then she rested one hand oh-so-casually on his thigh and began making lazy circles with her fingertips. He couldn't feel it through his armor, but the intention was clear enough. "Just for that, we're staying all -" her fingers trailed up to the junction of his hip, inches from where his plates had already begun to loosen in reaction. "- the way -" her fingers lifted to hover above him for a moment, and he was caught between horror that she was doing this in public and the increasing desire to let her do whatever she wanted. "- to the end," she finished, fingers trailing back down to their original position on his thigh.

Garrus let out a small hiss of frustration. Shepard just smiled, still facing forward. He waited until there was another murmur from the non-hanar audience members before leaning over again to say, "Hanar readings go on for hours. This one doesn't like to savor the last shot that long."

She choked back her laughter, and the nearest asari turned and gave them both a look. Her hand stilled and he could see her weighing making him sweat against her own desire. He rubbed his thumb against the nape of her neck in not-so-subtle encouragement. "Intermission?" she asked.

"Every hour," he confirmed.

She checked her omnitool discreetly. They still had half an hour to go. She sighed quietly, and wriggled a bit so her shoulder rested against his. For a split second, he was surprised at the un-Shepard-like cuddle, but then she turned her head towards him and said in a low, absolutely filthy voice, "You'd better be ready, because this one's heat sink is more than ready to be popped."

He was never going to make it through the next thirty minutes.


End file.
